


Beet Juice in the Attic

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Office (US)
Genre: Beets, Cash in the Attic, Gen, Hidden treasure, Scranton, Vermissa, mop bucket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael finds something fabulous at Dunder Mifflin after watching an episode of Cash in the Attic on PBS.</p><p>Note: Part of The Valley of Fear by Arthur Conan Doyle was set in the coal districts in Pennsylvania, the current home of Dunder Mifflin.  Birdy Edwards was a Pinkerton detective who solved a crime and then had later troubles.  </p><p>Inspired by the sherlock60 challenge of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beet Juice in the Attic

“Jim?  I think I found something.” Jim looked up into the camera, his expression seemingly bland, but saying just enough.   “Pam, you too.  This will be great.”  Michael dashed off, excited.  No one could ever convince him that  _Cash in the Attic_ was made in England or that Dunder Mifflin was unlikely to have true undiscovered treasures squirreled away in its supply closets.  That all you were likely to find in Scranton was coal.  Or possibly a beet farm.  
  
Pam suppressed a giggle as Michael led the way to yet another secret room with a surprise find.  The last one had been a mop bucket from Scranton high school.  She and Jim had bought it at the Goodwill store and spray painted it gold.  
  
“This is a good one!”  Michael rarely got this excited. Even at Hooters.  
  
It was.   _The Diary of Birdy Edwards._  A crumbling leather-bound notebook, with writing in faded ink.   
  
“This looks really old.” Jim said. “And real. Really real.”  Even Pam was impressed.  The office buzzed with the news.  
  
At his desk, Dwight Schrute grinned a wicked grin.  The Schrutes of Schrute Farm had once harbored a Pinkerton detective.  Of course, Dwight had also trained his cousin Mose in the fine art of forging antique documents using beet ink.  Maybe one day they could introduce it to the farm activities for tourists.


End file.
